Back in January I went to Abby's school and read a story to her class. I read The Saggy Baggy Elephant, my childhood favorite. My mom read it to me often, and I especially loved the voices she gave the characters.
Before beginning, I explained to the class that the book I was reading is the exact book I had when I was their age -- it is an old book, now sans cover.
I tried to reenact the story exactly as my mom told it, and the 20 or so kids sat quietly and listened. At the end, Ms. Punch, Abby's teacher, took a picture of me and Ab.
Last week I got an email from Ms. Punch saying she had seen a copy of Saggy Baggy while she was out one day, and she had to buy it. Now Ab has her very own copy.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Weary Mom's Axiom
Despite my best intentions, I seem to always be running out the door at the last minute.

"Abby, grab your shoes! William, buckle up! Is Maddie back there?"
I learned long ago to prepare for the next morning the night before. So, like a good little mama, I pack bags, declutter the car and plan for breakfasts after the kids are in bed.
So why do I find myself in such a frenzied rush time and time again?
Sundays are the worst.
They all start the same. We wake up leisurely, eat breakfast, dress, and then somewhere between snuggling on the couch and pouring a third glass of milk, I glance at the clock and realize I've got 20 minutes to get myself showered and dressed.
With one high heel on and one in hand, I hobble down the stairs while simultaneously grabbing things on my way out the door and going over my mental checklist:
Bible bag? Check.
Diaper bag? Check.
Pacifier? Check.
Coat? Check.
Diapers in the diaper bag? Check.
Snacks for Maddie? Check.
Did I brush my hair? I think so.
Sunday, February 3, was no different. Chip loaded the kids in the car, and I finally stumbled into the garage with four bags on my shoulder, two jackets and a Coke. It was when Chip asked where William's shoes were that I had a weary-mom moment:
I shouted it at no one in particular and yet to everyone.
After finding William's shoes, I buckled myself into the car, and Chip just looked at me and laughed.
"Maybe I should try that," he joked. "'Ma'am, I forgot to take the sponges out of your kid because I have to remember to do everything.' I'm sure that would go over really well."
I laughed and said, "Well, at least you work with other people. Don't you have a system of checks and balances?"
My mid-morning revelation made total sense to me: I can't remember everything, and yet I have to remember everything.
I'm sure a few other mommies can relate.
Maybe one day I'll get it all straight. Maybe.
In the meantime, I'm off to remember the things I've forgotten that I was supposed to remember so I wouldn't forget to remember them.

"Abby, grab your shoes! William, buckle up! Is Maddie back there?"
I learned long ago to prepare for the next morning the night before. So, like a good little mama, I pack bags, declutter the car and plan for breakfasts after the kids are in bed.
So why do I find myself in such a frenzied rush time and time again?
Sundays are the worst.
They all start the same. We wake up leisurely, eat breakfast, dress, and then somewhere between snuggling on the couch and pouring a third glass of milk, I glance at the clock and realize I've got 20 minutes to get myself showered and dressed.
With one high heel on and one in hand, I hobble down the stairs while simultaneously grabbing things on my way out the door and going over my mental checklist:
Bible bag? Check.
Diaper bag? Check.
Pacifier? Check.
Coat? Check.
Diapers in the diaper bag? Check.
Snacks for Maddie? Check.
Did I brush my hair? I think so.
Sunday, February 3, was no different. Chip loaded the kids in the car, and I finally stumbled into the garage with four bags on my shoulder, two jackets and a Coke. It was when Chip asked where William's shoes were that I had a weary-mom moment:
"I can't remember everything because
I have to remember everything!"
I have to remember everything!"
I shouted it at no one in particular and yet to everyone.
After finding William's shoes, I buckled myself into the car, and Chip just looked at me and laughed.
"Maybe I should try that," he joked. "'Ma'am, I forgot to take the sponges out of your kid because I have to remember to do everything.' I'm sure that would go over really well."
I laughed and said, "Well, at least you work with other people. Don't you have a system of checks and balances?"
My mid-morning revelation made total sense to me: I can't remember everything, and yet I have to remember everything.
I'm sure a few other mommies can relate.
Maybe one day I'll get it all straight. Maybe.
In the meantime, I'm off to remember the things I've forgotten that I was supposed to remember so I wouldn't forget to remember them.
Just Add Friends
William, Maddie and I went to the zoo last Friday with our friends Jill, Clair and Caleb. It was such a beautiful day! The kids enjoyed each other's company, and they were totally content eating snacks, trying out all the benches, playing in the bushes, posing with statues, picking up debris and playing on the playground -- most anything other than watching the animals. It was cute.
Gimme an 'A'
Abby attended her cheer clinic on Saturday, and she loved it. She was a little bashful performing in front of the very large audience, but overall, she did awesome considering they only practiced for two hours.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Say What?
I went to the Galleria yesterday.
Say what?
Yep, with two children in tow. I know, I know ... I said I would never, ever venture out that way. Why did I go? Because I needed to get my ring inspected, and the 2.4-million-square-feet shopping metropolis housed the closest Zales.
After the inspection, I took William and Maddie to the indoor playground and let them play for about 45 minutes. They had a blast! As you can see below, the play area is a miniature, soft foam version of the Galleria.
When William had his fill of climbing on cars and traipsing over buildings, he decided it was time to fill his belly with lunch. So we traversed the mall in search of the food court. There was certainly no shortage of options (or lunch patrons), and I was not looking forward to standing in line and then finding a table (and a high chair!). Then I happened upon the Rainforest Cafe. I asked, "Why not," and we went in and got a table. We were three of only about a handful of people, so it felt like we had the place to ourselves.
During lunch a little boy of about 4 years who was eating with his mom and (presumably) grandfather, kept looking back at me. Finally he said to his mom while pointing directly at me, "Mom, look at that grandmother over there."
Say what?
The mom turned around and said, "That's not a grandmother." And she quickly diverted his attention back to his half-eaten hot dog. I admit I both laughed out loud and cringed a little at his announcement. It probably wouldn't have bothered me as much if my dear almost-6-year-old daughter hadn't been telling me over and over how old I look for several days prior.
On our way to the car, I decided to peruse the formal dress section in Nordstrom.
"Mama's just gonna peek at these dresses, OK, William?" I said. He responded in his very loud and booming voice, "Mama, you pee peed?"
Say what?
Mercy. It was nearing time to pick up Abigail, and after a brief stop at home, we loaded up again and headed to school. Ab seemed sad while walking to the car. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked. "I'm so sad," she responded. "I could cry all the way up to Heaven."
"Why, darling?" I responded, thinking something horrible had happened that ruined her day. "Because Abraham Lincoln died," she said, her voice wavering.
With relief, I asked, "Do you know how he died?"
"In war," she said. "He went behind a curtain, and someone shot him."
Say what?
I went on to explain the details involving an ill-fated theater and a man named John Wilkes Booth.
My sweet pumpkins. They sure do keep me on my toes.
Say what?
Yep, with two children in tow. I know, I know ... I said I would never, ever venture out that way. Why did I go? Because I needed to get my ring inspected, and the 2.4-million-square-feet shopping metropolis housed the closest Zales.
After the inspection, I took William and Maddie to the indoor playground and let them play for about 45 minutes. They had a blast! As you can see below, the play area is a miniature, soft foam version of the Galleria.
When William had his fill of climbing on cars and traipsing over buildings, he decided it was time to fill his belly with lunch. So we traversed the mall in search of the food court. There was certainly no shortage of options (or lunch patrons), and I was not looking forward to standing in line and then finding a table (and a high chair!). Then I happened upon the Rainforest Cafe. I asked, "Why not," and we went in and got a table. We were three of only about a handful of people, so it felt like we had the place to ourselves.
![]() |
| The kids loved eating in the "rainforest." |
Say what?
The mom turned around and said, "That's not a grandmother." And she quickly diverted his attention back to his half-eaten hot dog. I admit I both laughed out loud and cringed a little at his announcement. It probably wouldn't have bothered me as much if my dear almost-6-year-old daughter hadn't been telling me over and over how old I look for several days prior.
On our way to the car, I decided to peruse the formal dress section in Nordstrom.
"Mama's just gonna peek at these dresses, OK, William?" I said. He responded in his very loud and booming voice, "Mama, you pee peed?"
Say what?
Mercy. It was nearing time to pick up Abigail, and after a brief stop at home, we loaded up again and headed to school. Ab seemed sad while walking to the car. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked. "I'm so sad," she responded. "I could cry all the way up to Heaven."
"Why, darling?" I responded, thinking something horrible had happened that ruined her day. "Because Abraham Lincoln died," she said, her voice wavering.
![]() |
| RIP Honest Abe |
"In war," she said. "He went behind a curtain, and someone shot him."
Say what?
I went on to explain the details involving an ill-fated theater and a man named John Wilkes Booth.
My sweet pumpkins. They sure do keep me on my toes.
Oldie But Goodie
In my email this morning I received this picture from June 2010 -- Chip's residency graduation. Thanks, Papa! It was certainly a night to remember.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Laughing in the Snow
Here are a few laughs on this beautiful Friday:
Vicarious Generosity
A few weeks ago Abby heard a presentation at school about homelessness in Houston. She's been burdened about it ever since, and she wants to do something about it. Yesterday she told me that we should donate blankets, but then she started crying because she couldn't handle the thought of having to donate her blankets. Then she said, "I have an idea! We could make some, and then donate those." That was the end of the conversation.
This morning Abby and William came into my room, and Abby said, "William has something to tell you." William, who still had sleep in his eyes, just grinned and held out his green and yellow blanket -- his favorite security blanket. Abby said, "No! You have to say this," and she pulled him back and whispered in his ear.
With big, proud eyes, William said, "You can donate my blanket."
Abby was pleased, and she said, "I get really cold at night, so that's why I can't donate mine."
Crazy about Babies
On the way to school this morning Abby asked (completely out of the blue, mind you), "Mama, if God gives you another baby, will you go psycho?"
I laughed, and asked, "What does that mean, Abby?"
"That means you would go crazy."
"Why would I go crazy?"
"Well, you said you don't like babies."
Southern Snow
And, finally, as the Northeast prepares to be buried in snow today, the kindergartners at Abby's school had a snow day of their own. A company came this morning and made snow for the kids. Here they are; they were like little ants on a mound hill.
Vicarious Generosity
A few weeks ago Abby heard a presentation at school about homelessness in Houston. She's been burdened about it ever since, and she wants to do something about it. Yesterday she told me that we should donate blankets, but then she started crying because she couldn't handle the thought of having to donate her blankets. Then she said, "I have an idea! We could make some, and then donate those." That was the end of the conversation.
This morning Abby and William came into my room, and Abby said, "William has something to tell you." William, who still had sleep in his eyes, just grinned and held out his green and yellow blanket -- his favorite security blanket. Abby said, "No! You have to say this," and she pulled him back and whispered in his ear.
With big, proud eyes, William said, "You can donate my blanket."
Abby was pleased, and she said, "I get really cold at night, so that's why I can't donate mine."
Crazy about Babies
On the way to school this morning Abby asked (completely out of the blue, mind you), "Mama, if God gives you another baby, will you go psycho?"
I laughed, and asked, "What does that mean, Abby?"
"That means you would go crazy."
"Why would I go crazy?"
"Well, you said you don't like babies."
Southern Snow
And, finally, as the Northeast prepares to be buried in snow today, the kindergartners at Abby's school had a snow day of their own. A company came this morning and made snow for the kids. Here they are; they were like little ants on a mound hill.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Blast from the Past
Well, at least a blast from the past few months. During my time away from blogging, a few things happened, and I took some pictures along the way.
| We went gator huntin' at Brazos Bend State Park in November. |
| Enjoying the beach in Galveston (in December). |
| William turned 3! |
| William's Big Wheel was a big hit. |
| Christmas! |
| Christmas Baby |
| Abby and her friend, Amy, love playing at the park. |
| Abby is so proud she can finally do the monkey bars. |
Monday, February 4, 2013
Oh, Be Careful Little Feet
It started when William was about six weeks old. I would stare at his little feet and wonder where they would carry him. Would they carry him into sinful situations? Would they walk down the aisle some day? Would they run and kick a soccer ball? Would they carry the Word to those who need to hear it?
I've made a habit of praying about my children's feet (and hands!), so when I came across a story in my Bible yesterday, it resonated with me. I thought I would share it here.
True Success
by Martha Manikas-Foster
I reclined on my hospital bed with my two-day-old daughter cuddled on my chest. As she slept I caressed her tiny fingers and wondered how she would use them as she grew up. Would they tap formulas and technical data into a now unimagined computer? Would they intricately stitch wounded human tissue? Or perhaps sculpt or paint using vibrant textures and colors? Although I randomly pictured professions at which she might excel, I focused my prayers then as I focus them now, not on what she might be, but on who she could be.
I know that one day, probably before she puts away her dolls and crayons, she'll learn that some people measure excellence and success solely by "the bottom line" -- the money they take home. Some "put their hope in wealth" (1 Timothy 6:17) and build their lives to accommodate its pursuit.
I trust that by that time we'll have taught her to value many things above money. Scripture teaches not that riches themselves are evil but that the value we place on them can lead to our undoing.
I've made a habit of praying about my children's feet (and hands!), so when I came across a story in my Bible yesterday, it resonated with me. I thought I would share it here.
True Success
by Martha Manikas-Foster
I reclined on my hospital bed with my two-day-old daughter cuddled on my chest. As she slept I caressed her tiny fingers and wondered how she would use them as she grew up. Would they tap formulas and technical data into a now unimagined computer? Would they intricately stitch wounded human tissue? Or perhaps sculpt or paint using vibrant textures and colors? Although I randomly pictured professions at which she might excel, I focused my prayers then as I focus them now, not on what she might be, but on who she could be.
I know that one day, probably before she puts away her dolls and crayons, she'll learn that some people measure excellence and success solely by "the bottom line" -- the money they take home. Some "put their hope in wealth" (1 Timothy 6:17) and build their lives to accommodate its pursuit.
I trust that by that time we'll have taught her to value many things above money. Scripture teaches not that riches themselves are evil but that the value we place on them can lead to our undoing.
People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap
and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men
into ruin and destruction. (1 Timothy 6:9)
On the other hand, "godliness with contentment is great gain" (1 Timothy 6:6). The apostle Paul's charge to young Timothy is to flee from the pursuit of riches and instead pursue godliness. Paul further instructs Timothy to:
Command those who are rich ... to put their hope in God ...
Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds,
and to be generous and willing to share. (1 Timothy 6:17-18)
When Connie reaches elementary school and her teachers ask her what she wants to be when she grows up, I expect that she will list "teacher," "firefighter," and perhaps "doctor" among her choices. But my prayer will continue to be that no matter what profession she chooses, at the core she will truly succeed by being a righteous and godly woman, full of "faith, love, endurance and gentleness" (1 Timothy 6:11).
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Good Times, Good Reads, Good Lessons
Yesterday at the park I saw a guy in Texas Children's Hospital scrubs, so I asked him what department he was with.
"Orthopedic oncology."
"Oh, wow," I replied. "My husband is a surgery fellow there."
"That means he's really busy these days."
"Incredibly."
That was the end of the conversation. A moment or two later Abigail came up to me and said, "You said 'my husband.' Why don't you ever say, 'My kids' dad'?"
I had a nice laugh.
**************************************************************************
I read a really good book a few weeks ago called The Shack. (Thanks, Pastor Paul!) I laughed. I cried. But most of all, I felt closer to God. Add it to your reading list!
**************************************************************************
Abby likes to dance, and nearly every time we are at the park, she asks me to dance with her. Although I usually don't like to call attention to myself, I always accept her invitation. My mind inevitably goes back to that scene in the movie Courageous. For those who haven't seen it, I don't want to spoil it for you, but there is a scene where a little girl asks her daddy to dance while they are waiting at the bank (they are outside the bank near a patch of grass). Her dad said no, basically because he didn't want to look silly. A few scenes later the dad gets a call saying the little girl has been killed in a car accident. Later in the movie the dad goes back to the bank, parks next to the patch of grass, and gets out and dances by himself, with his daughter's favorite song playing in the background. What a tearjerker! It certainly made me realize every moment is precious; we must seize them.
"Orthopedic oncology."
"Oh, wow," I replied. "My husband is a surgery fellow there."
"That means he's really busy these days."
"Incredibly."
That was the end of the conversation. A moment or two later Abigail came up to me and said, "You said 'my husband.' Why don't you ever say, 'My kids' dad'?"
I had a nice laugh.
**************************************************************************
I read a really good book a few weeks ago called The Shack. (Thanks, Pastor Paul!) I laughed. I cried. But most of all, I felt closer to God. Add it to your reading list!
**************************************************************************
Abby likes to dance, and nearly every time we are at the park, she asks me to dance with her. Although I usually don't like to call attention to myself, I always accept her invitation. My mind inevitably goes back to that scene in the movie Courageous. For those who haven't seen it, I don't want to spoil it for you, but there is a scene where a little girl asks her daddy to dance while they are waiting at the bank (they are outside the bank near a patch of grass). Her dad said no, basically because he didn't want to look silly. A few scenes later the dad gets a call saying the little girl has been killed in a car accident. Later in the movie the dad goes back to the bank, parks next to the patch of grass, and gets out and dances by himself, with his daughter's favorite song playing in the background. What a tearjerker! It certainly made me realize every moment is precious; we must seize them.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Maddie's One
Our sweet pea turned one last Sunday. We had a small celebration at home (cake and presents), and I'm pretty sure Maddie had no idea what was going on.
I gave a shot at making her birthday cake -- the first cake I've made for any of the kids' birthdays, and it turned out OK. I'll be making it again, with some modifications, for Abby's monkey-themed party in March.
Miss Maddie is so little, only making it into the 20th percentile for height! She's still a little baby in my eyes. xo
I gave a shot at making her birthday cake -- the first cake I've made for any of the kids' birthdays, and it turned out OK. I'll be making it again, with some modifications, for Abby's monkey-themed party in March.
Miss Maddie is so little, only making it into the 20th percentile for height! She's still a little baby in my eyes. xo
| "Am I doing it right, Mom?" |
| Sugar Coma |
| The kids had more fun opening presents than Maddie. |
| Abby made a "mobile" for Maddie at school. |
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